


Time Set Apart

by samariumwriting



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:20:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24668257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samariumwriting/pseuds/samariumwriting
Summary: On a warm summer's afternoon, Cyril and Petra have a picnic together.
Relationships: Cyril/Petra Macneary
Comments: 7
Kudos: 17





	Time Set Apart

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was one of two that I contributed to the Rest Day zine (@RestDayZine), which raised money for Feeding America's Covid-19 Response Fund. The zine was an absolute pleasure to work on, and I'm really happy that I stepped out of my usual fare to write this!

“Off for the day again?” The call from the town watchman sounded as Cyril made his way to where his wyvern was tethered. He stopped and shot the man a smile.

“Diplomatic errand to Brigid,” he explained. That wasn’t the whole truth, perhaps, but it wasn’t a complete lie either. “I won’t be back until the evening, you know how these things tend to drag out.”

“I sure as Ailell don’t,” came the reply, “but you do, so I’ll trust you on that one. Have a good time, and tell that charming girl who visited last week that I send my best wishes!”

“I’ll pass them on, I’m sure she’ll be glad,” he returned, wondering what the poor watchman would think if he said that the aforementioned “charming girl” was the Queen of Brigid. It was a shame that he couldn’t tell anyone in Fódlan about that, or about the real purpose of his frequent visits to Brigid, but he understood; some things were better just between a handful of people.

Cyril knew the easiest route to Brigid back to front by now; he knew the altitude to fly Rafiq at when crossing different portions of land and sea. Rafiq knew the route well too at this point. If Cyril told him they were going to visit Brigid, he could probably just let his wyvern take him himself.

He spotted Petra before Petra spotted him, for sure — even with several years on him, he could see further than most, and it was easy to pick her out on the back of her wyvern against the blue of both sky and sea. He waved, and a few moments later, she did the same in return. Even after so many meetings exactly like this, the sight of it still made his heart light up.

They met in the middle, leaving enough space for the beating of wings but staying close enough to hear each other’s voices over the sound of the wind. “Hello, Cyril!” Petra called. “I hope everything is well in your town.”

“It’s the same as always,” he replied with a chuckle, and his breath was snatched away by something more than the wind when Petra laughed in reply.

“I am glad to hear it,” she returned. “We are flying to a spot we have not been to before. It will take a little while longer than normal, but I hope it will be worth it.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great,” he said, and she smiled brightly in reply.

Conversation could wait until they touched down wherever it was that Petra had picked out for them today. It was hard to keep something up with the wind rushing past, so instead Cyril just marvelled at the scenery, as always. Brigid was a beautiful place, packed full to the brim with nature almost beyond his imagination.

They flew over the turquoise shore, bright sandy beaches, and countless verdant treetops. After that, they descended a little, and Petra led him into a valley they hadn’t travelled through before. A river rushed below them, almost white where it hurried past the rocks, but a peaceful, still blue in other places. The rocks on either side of the valley loomed vast and grey, and Cyril could spot little outcroppings where flowers grew.

It was beautiful, and the scenery only improved as they reached the end of the valley and ended up next to the coast again. Petra pointed down towards a small patch of grass on the top of a cliff, overlooking the sea, and started circling to descend. Cyril looked around them from the sky; he couldn’t see a single town or village anywhere. They were completely alone.

Once they’d both landed, they climbed down from their wyverns and set them to roam; Cyril knew they’d be fairly close by, and Rafiq always came back when he was needed. Once they were settled on the grass, Cyril spread a cloth out between them and started taking the food out of the basket he’d brought.

“This is something one of the traders taught me to make,” Cyril explained, starting up their usual tradition of explaining all the food they brought. With the lives they led, half of their available conversation topics were about politics, and that actually wasn’t what they were here for. Sometimes, it was nice to think about something else.   


“Ah!” Petra said, gladly taking one of the flatbreads in her hands and using it to scoop up some of the stew. “One of the Almyran traders? I think I recognise the flatbread.”

“Yeah,” he answered with a chuckle. “I think I’m getting pretty good at those, actually.” Petra nodded, her mouth full of food. “The guy who taught me the stew picked me out from the crowd and called me over, said he just had to teach me the recipe his mother taught him so I could share it with the people in Nuvelle.”

Petra smiled knowingly. When they’d started these little outings, Cyril had always complained about how frequently Almyran visitors to the town would single him out and want to talk to him. But he’d warmed to the idea with time, and it was… Well, it was good to finally make some good memories of Almyra.

“It’s chicken and cranberry, mostly,” he said. “Some potatoes too. Cranberries apparently grow up in the north of Almyra, in mountainous areas, but they grow really well in Faerghus too. I think it’s the weather?” Petra nodded. “It was fun to make, I might cook it again if you like it.”

“I do,” she said, reaching over to take some more from the dish. “Tell the trader you befriended that his recipe is very good.”

Cyril grinned. “Will do,” he replied. He leaned over and pulled the basket Petra had brought with her a little closer to him before reaching in to pick out a couple of pieces of… “Is this fish?” he asked.

Petra nodded. “It is a common fish in the sea around this time of year. I bought the fish from the market, along with the spices.” Cyril bit into the breaded fish, letting the warmth of the spice spread over his tongue. “They grow by the waterside, but I did not have the time to pick them myself. I did have time to fry the fish and spices together in some of the oils from the fish, though; they’re also mixed in with the breadcrumbs and glued on with egg.”

“It’s delicious,” Cyril said. “I’ll have to try making it myself when I go back to Nuvelle.”

“You should,” Petra replied with a smile, finishing up the last of the food Cyril had brought that was still in front of her. “I would like to swim later, but that is a bad idea just after eating. For now, could we just stay and enjoy the sunshine?”

“I’d love nothing more,” Cyril said, moving to clear the baskets between them. This, too, was something they did often; the afternoon sunlight was perfect for a nap. Cyril settled down on the blanket they’d laid out first, and Petra curled around him a few moments later, her arm slung over his body.

It was easy to relax like that, hearing nothing but her breathing syncing up with his and the sounds of the bugs and birds and the sea below. It was easier still to drift off to sleep when Petra started humming a now-familiar song as he closed his eyes.

* * *

Cyril awoke with the golden light of the setting sun peeking through his eyelids. The advancing sunset had left them half in shadow, but he wasn’t cold. By the contrary, next to Petra, he didn’t think he could ever feel truly cold.

When he turned over, he found Petra already awake, watching him with a soft smile on her face. “Good evening,” she said. “You must have been tired; you slept a long time.”

“I guess I was,” Cyril replied, rubbing the back of his neck as he felt a blush rise on his face. They’d spent time together like this countless times, now, but it still never failed to feel special. “Want to go swimming now?”

“Of course,” Petra said. “I will race you down the cliff!” With that, she sprung into a standing position and set off at a jog for the cliff edge.

“Hey, wait, Petra!” he called, looking slightly despairingly at the blanket and baskets they were leaving up there. Oh well, it wasn’t like anyone would steal them while they were gone. “I’m not sure racing you down a cliff edge is all that safe.”

“I trust your abilities,” Petra called, her voice already a short distance down the cliff. “Trust in me, also.” She had a point there, so Cyril abandoned the flicker of apprehension and began his descent. There was no way he’d beat her, but he sure as Ailell could try.

Petra was already in the water by the time Cyril reached the sands below, waving at him from the sunstruck waves. He’d never been the most confident of swimmers, but she’d been teaching him the basics for a while now. So, smiling, he tossed caution to the wind once more and joined her in the sea.

When he was a child, he had never imagined that, one day, something so perfect could ever be waiting for him. But he was glad his own narrow view for his future had been so thoroughly disproved. It made him glad every single day.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! :) if you enjoyed, please consider leaving a comment. I also have a twitter @samariumwriting if you wanna hear me ramble about various things


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